


If Dirtmouth Had Stars

by Michdelanoche



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Acquaintanceship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, But I plan to have em interact, Canon Compliant, Cutesy, Dialogue, Fic number whatever till Silksong, Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Grimmchild is baby, Light-Hearted, Protective Grimm, Protective Knight, Slightly More Adventurous Than I Anticipated, Slightly Thought-Provoking, Storytime, Tags May Change, The Author Regrets Nothing, Zote The Mighty x Grimm, and Grimmchild, jk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michdelanoche/pseuds/Michdelanoche
Summary: In many places, clear skies mean one thing: stars are observable.Anecdote in which some of Dirtmouth’s residents (eventually) get together and enjoy the beauties of the night.
Relationships: Elderbug & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Grimmchild & The Knight (Hollow Knight), The Knight (Hollow Knight) & Everyone
Comments: 22
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I write lighthearted things to compensate, but here's another short story if you like character interactions.

Being underground (or in that ‘ruin’ as Elderbug likes to put it) can make anyone feel dead on their feet. The Knight arose from the brightly lit well, Grimmchild right on their tail; compared to the dreary caverns below, Dirtmouth was mundane, but at least it was safe. There are no Moss Knights hiding in ambush, nor are there Belflys ready to descend to their deaths onto any unsuspecting creatures. There are no putrid Bluggsacs blighting the air with their rancidity, and the sound of scampering Tiktiks is nowhere to be heard. Grimmchild yipped and yipped, attempting to draw the Knight’s attention from the road ahead. The poor thing was tired, having just concluded a fierce battle with an eldritch foe named Nosk, who attempted to lure the Knight to their demise in their lair. The tiny snake-like creature beside the Knight incessantly squalled, finally letting up when his keeper glanced at him questioningly. Before the child could alert his companion as to what was unsettling them, Elder Bug strode towards the Knight’s direction and greeted them as he usually did. 

“Why not take a moment to rest on the bench?” Elderbug suggested, “you look as if you could use some respite.” 

The old bug was right in that ‘things’ were much simpler aboveground; though an infection was on the rise, a few remaining occupants of the town of Dirtmouth were fortunate enough to bypass it. Turmoil breached the far corners of Hallownest, and true emptiness made its home away from those who did not remember the land’s history.

Aboveground though, the townsfolk were able to cling onto the last pieces of the fading kingdom--and they could form some semblance of community. 

The Knight sat down on the black bench, his diminutive partner not too far behind. Although the Grimmchild was still attempting to get their attention, the Knight was focused on Elderbug, who expressed a bit of dissatisfaction at the enormous red tents which enveloped the west side of Dirtmouth. Grimmchild made his way in between Elderbug and the Knight, beckoning the latter to look upwards. When they looked up towards the sky, the Knight could see the mist that hung overhead--as well as faint cloud covering--but they saw nothing particularly remarkable. Whatever Grimmchild saw, the Knight did not see. The snake-like creature made a noise of disappointment, and he floated to nestle himself in front of his keeper’s stubby little legs. 

“It’s beautiful today, wouldn’t you say so?” Elderbug asked the Knight, who could only look up at him in silence. They could not speak, but Elderbug liked to converse with the fellow anyway--they made good company. It seems Grimmchild had piqued the curiosity of the old bug as well, as he moved his gaze towards the dark sky. However, all the elder saw was the shade that covered Dirtmouth like a blanket. Grimmchild leaped up, scuttling across the air before pointing his tail skywards. “What perturbs you, small one? Your friend is right here in one piece,” said Elderbug worriedly. Indeed, the Knight was there, sitting on the black bench and fixing their charms of battle. There were several of them that the Knight alternated between, utilizing the ones best fit for their situation. At the mention of his name, the Knight stopped what he was doing and glanced up at Elderbug and Grimmchild. Grimmchild darted forward and went to nuzzle his keeper, using his long body to partially coil himself around the Knight’s slight figure; being unable to speak, the Knight expressed his affections by petting the little creature’s head. 

“What are we looking at here, Elder?” said Sly; the shopkeeper in the large rotund house in Dirtmouth went unnoticed when he came out from inside the store. Sly came out just in time to see Elderbug looking up at the sky, and he wondered just what was so noteworthy.

“Oh, Sly,” Elderbug mused, gesturing towards Grimmchild. “I don’t know, this child with our little friend seems bothered by something up there.” 

“But there’s nothing,” replied Sly, “nothing discernable at least.” 

“Is that something over there?” Elderbug questioned.

“No no, I think that’s just a cloud,” Sly affirmed. “Look, it’s even moving.” 

“How about that, Sly? It looks a bit strange.”

“No no! I think that’s just your vision playing tricks on you. But what about that?” 

“That’s just the light from the street lamp emanating. It might look unusual because you are short,” Elderbug added. 

“Hmph! I think the child has wasted our time,” Sly said bemused. At the accusing remark, Grimmchild let out a small cry, clearly miffed at the exchange that took place between the elder and Sly. When the Knight arose from his spot on the bench, they gave one last glaring look at Elderbug and Sly, before they switched their focus again to the seemingly empty sky. The Knight then marched towards the Stag Station--an objective clearly in mind--and Grimmchild was right on their tail. The little creature danced around the Knight, excited to see his partner up and running. 

“Do return soon,” Elderbug told the journeying Knight. 

“Indeed!” Sly agreed. 

After the Knight and his child disappeared into the Stag Station, Sly bid Elderbug a goodbye before returning back to his lodging as well. 

Elderbug wasn’t sure if he was too old, or the Grimmchild was too young, but he could not shake the feeling that there was indeed something looming over their heads, something more to Dirtmouth’s sky than meets the eye. 

What Grimmchild had observed that day was the barely perceptible twinkling of an object far off in the universe, beyond the land of Hallownest and certainly beyond the fading Dirtmouth--but nobody had noticed quite yet. Whatever it was, it was certainly more interesting than the constant murmuring of the bushes or the eerie graveyard to the further side of town. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent like 5 minutes researching what that long shit on Cornifer's face is, before coming to the conclusion that it's a snout. Idk about bug anatomy.

When the Knight traversed through the City of Tears, the place’s unending rainfall had caught them off guard; if Hallownest had several wonders to be explored, then the capital was surely one of them. The only question which remained was where exactly the ‘rainfall’ was coming from. 

There was an evident division within the city, the western part being clearly designated for common and poor bugs. The rich of Hallownest likely lived in the eastern part of the city, as its rich red and purple colors and opulent comforts screamed luxury. An imposing statue of the ‘Hollow Knight’ rested right in the center of the Fountain Square; whoever ordained for the creation of the effigy likely wanted their name to withstand the test of time. 

It was in the City of Tears that the Knight discovered the Soul Sanctum, a research institution whose main objective was to find a way in which to obtain a pure focus; attaining a pure focus would supposedly inhibit the infection that was rapidly spreading within Hallownest. Countless sacrifices were made in the name of the goal, but it was a fruitless one as the infection overcame the City of Tears anyways. 

The battle with Soul Master was a decisive one; through the hoarding and use of Soul, the Soul Master effectively became a powerful being, one who few could stand up against. In the face of battle though, the Knight shows no irresolution. By working in tandem, the small creature and Grimmchild managed to triumph over Soul Master and effectively conquer a new spell that the beast possessed. Rather than stay below ground and search for new areas to venture into, the Knight made his way towards the safety of Dirtmouth. 

“Nyah nyah!” cried the Grimmchild, excited to go back to the town; ever since he made a fuss the day before, Grimmchild seemed impatient to go _somewhere--_ somewhere that was not in the underground. Yesterday’s event had roused the child enough to the point where he began nipping at the Knight’s horns whenever they ignored his incessant whining. Was the Knight particularly thrilled? Not exactly, but what could they possibly do to quiet the future incarnation of the Grimm Troupe Master? 

If there were any opponents who the Knight wanted to sneak past to save their energy, that notion immediately went out the door with Grimmchild’s noisiness. As a matter of fact, there was a moment in the City of Tears when the Knight was feeling weak; just past a Great Husk Sentry lay a perfectly good bench, but the Knight would have to go through the intimidating Sentry before even getting to use it. They thought for a moment, and decided to use the platforms available to evade the enemy unscathed. Simple enough right? Well it would’ve been, had Grimmchild not tackled the Knight onto the ground after being ignored for three minutes straight. It wasn’t the fall that caught the Great Sentry’s attention, but Grimmchild then let out a loud and piercing “rah!” when the Knight sharply turned to look away from him. After that, the Husk was on a wild chase towards the duo. Just barely reaching safety, the Knight could only pat Grimmchild on the head in what looked to be defeat; if there was any feelings of shock at the situation, the little Knight could not adequately express them facially.

\----------

“Where are we going, little one?” asked the Old Stag at the station. Dirtmouth was the Knight’s destination, and they arrived within a flash. An overly eager Grimmchild raced outside with an elfish grin on his face, but the Knight wasn’t in any rush to settle down. 

“Oh, the impish child is back, is he?” remarked Elderbug at seeing the Grimmchild; the creature scrutinized the vicinity before nestling himself on the ground. He paid no mind to Elderbug, but was more interested in the sky yet again, his gaze as intent as it was yesterday. “And where is the-”

The Knight dashed forward in darkness, answering Elderbug’s question with his appearance.

“Hello again, care to sit? I could use the company.” 

And the Knight did; soon after resting, they pulled out a quill and map from their cloak and began to chart findings of the City of Tears and Soul Sanctum. No longer were they being bothered by their companion, though the Knight was probably extremely grateful for that; a calm Grimmchild meant that they were out of the woods for the time being. 

“Oh my, quite the gathering we have here,” a voice panted. 

Cornifer the cartographer entered the scene; he was carrying a drawstring bag on his back filled to the brim with papers, and looked to be fairly out of breath. “I see you are marking the map. I hope that its been useful.” Cornifer waved at Elderbug and the Knight before carrying himself tiredly to his wife Iselda’s shop. Grimmchild purred at the sight of the adult male bug, and he stared at the Knight as if trying to tell him something soon after Cornifer disappeared into the store. His keeper wasn’t paying attention though, far too occupied with the map in their hands. Grimmchild stopped trying, and he instead resolved to watch Elderbug with a pleading look. The two had a staring contest, and when Elderbug opened his mouth to speak, Grimmchild finally gave indication as to what he wanted. He smiled and pointed his tail towards Cornifer’s house. 

“Oh, is there something you want-” Elderbug paused and looked at Grimmchild for assurance before continuing, “over at Cornifer’s lodging?” 

And that was all Grimmchild needed to fly over to Cornifer’s house; he disappeared and it grew rather quiet. Elderbug looked at the small Knight, who slumped against the bench with half lidded eyes. A loud crash made the elder and Knight both jump, the latter readying his nail and getting in a defensive position. Grimmchild came flying out the house with Cornifer’s drawstring bag in his mouth; the little creature unexpectedly had a lot of strength. Cornifer and his wife Iselda were in hot pursuit of the child, attempting to swipe the bag but to no avail. Grimmchild finally dropped the bag after reaching the bench where the Knight was situated. 

“MY WYRM!” shrieked Cornifer, picking his gear up. “And I thought Deepnest was bad!” 

“Just who does this child think he is?” cried Iselda. “Corny and I were nearly on a wild aspid chase.” Iselda turned to look at the Knight, who remained silent in witnessing the scene (not that they could say much anyway). “Does this...child belong to you?” 

“He travels with our little friend,” Elderbug chimed in.

“Well in any case, I don’t know what he wants with my bag full of maps!” Cornifer exclaimed. “I thought he was a beast at first, but his small stature threw me and Iselda off guard.” 

Iselda let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her head, “I was going to unleash my weapon from ages ago.” When Iselda glanced at Grimmchild, he pouted at her apologetically. 

“You...used to wield a weapon?” queried the elder of the bunch.

“Oh yeah! But then Corny and I settled down in peace,” Iselda said disapprovingly. Cornifer quirked a brow as if saying ‘hey!’, and Elderbug laughed. 

“I’m right here Iselda!” 

“And I never said I wasn't thankful for that,” Iselda simpered, winking at her lover. 

Grimmchild flew over to Cornifer and lightly nipped the bug’s snout, causing him to wince in pain and cover himself protectively. “Now what do you want, child?!” Cornifer huffed, “the cartographer snout is not food.” 

“The what?” Iselda laughed.

The little Knight looked at Grimmchild, who had the same elfish grin on his face from before; he pointed his tail skyward and gazed at the heavens. Brandishing their nail, the Knight waved it in front of everyone’s faces to draw their attention towards the sky above. 

“Ah this again,” mumbled Elderbug.

“Again?” Iselda and Cornifer questioned in unison. 

All eyes were on the sky, darting back and forth to search for something--whatever it was that Grimmchild had observed. In an instance, there was a twinkle that flashed across the sky before disappearing just as quickly as it came. 

“Did you see that?!” cried Iselda, squinting to look for it again.

“Yes, but now it’s gone,” said Elderbug in awe. 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a phenomenon like that in my days of exploring,” Cornifer stated, stroking his snout in wonder. 

Grimmchild turned to look at his keeper, clearly content with what had just transpired. The Knight had their usual stoic bearing, but they too appeared to be as curious as the others. Using their monarch wings, they attempted to fly and get a closer look at the sky, but only managed to get a glimpse of dark blue hues and thin clouds. 

The residents of Dirtmouth were again left with more questions than answers, but for the time being, they’d go back to their lives as usual. The Knight walked towards the Stag Station just as he did the day before, Grimmchild close behind them as electrified as ever. 

“That little one is a wonder if I’ve ever seen one,” Iselda remarked to her companions. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing gods blessed me today, this chapter came out so naturally. It has a more somber atmosphere, I suppose.

*kachink* 

Two gates closed on either side of the Knight; they knew exactly what this meant: someone or _something_ was about to challenge them. Upon entering a new place in Crystal Peak, the Knight immediately took notice of the figure encapsulated in crystal who was sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. As if turned to stone, the being sat completely still, but immediately arose when the Knight tried to exit the area. The foe jumped and landed swiftly in front of the Knight, who dashed forward to dodge. Suddenly, beams shot down from crystals above; the Crystal Guardian dealt a powerful blow to the Knight, who flew back with the impact. When the enemy fired a pink ray from their crystallized arms, the Knight jumped up and evaded the hit. They managed to land a few hits to the Guardian’s head with their nail. Grimmchild discharged small balls of scarlet fire from his mouth at the Guardian, though they moved too fast for the creature’s flames to make contact. When another pink beam shot down from above, the Knight barely managed to dodge it before getting hit by the ray of light that was launched from Crystal Guardian’s hand. Grimmchild’s scarlet flame destroying the opponent’s gem veil was the last thing the Knight saw before blacking out. 

\----------

_“Nyah…”_

The Knight opened their eyes to find Grimmchild adjacent to them. It appeared the creature was sleeping, though they flew up once the Knight stood erect. Something seemed off, however. The Knight felt an odd emptiness, as if there was a piece of them missing. They felt wounded, and could not shake a feeling of contrition. Previously, the Knight had discovered the candle-lit chamber of a confessor named Jiji. At the time, Jiji had told the Knight that they should be on their way, as they were not in need of her services. The intuition that was guiding the Knight told them that they should go and visit Jiji as soon as possible. 

The fight with Crystal Guardian had ended just as quickly as it began, though it certainly left its impacts. The bench where Crystal Guardian had been residing was now empty, and the Knight went over to rest on it. It wasn’t for long though, and the Knight went on their way in order to drop by Confessor Jiji’s chamber. Several long tunnels and a few battle-hungry enemies later, the Knight reached a lift near the crown of Crystal Peak that would take them to Dirtmouth. Grimmchild rollicked back-and-forth and made sounds akin to singing; while the Knight stayed inside to let themselves be carried down, Grimmchild flew outside the confines of the machine and blew fire at the sky above. The flames dissipated into the darkness before even reaching the atmosphere, but that didn’t stop the little creature from blowing and blowing. 

\----------

“Ah, you come in wariness, don’t you, dear knight?” said Confessor Jiji as she sidled up the Knight from her hiding spot. The Knight could only stare in response, but Confessor Jiji understood their plight regardless. Off in the distance, Grimmchild was playing with the candles that dotted Jiji’s shadowy chamber; the child grinned from ear to ear when they lit back up a candle that they had extinguished. 

“Before performing my services, I must admit that I will need some form of...compensation!” Jiji announced. Without hesitation, the Knight pulled out geo from their cloak and handed it to Jiji, who waved the payment off. “Ah you see, I am very hungry, so geo is not adequate, dear knight.” The Knight gazed up inquisitively at Jiji, unsure as to what it was that she wanted. 

The chamber candles flickered and popped, much to Grimmchild’s amusement.

“I’m aware that you carry some distasteful eggs around,” said Jiji, “eggs that are just as distasteful as I am! These morsels will be of sufficient payment.”

The Knight gave a rancid egg to Jiji, who hungrily took hold of it. She set the egg aside and nodded, pleased at the strange transaction. “Now, let me peer into you,” declared Jiji. She sat still and focused, gazing into the Knight as if reading their very psyche. Perhaps that was exactly what the confessor was doing--the Knight couldn’t really tell. 

“Rah!” cried Grimmchild in happiness: there were three candles that flickered angrily with the addition of his scarlet flames. 

“I see it, dear knight,” said Jiji thoughtfully, “the stains of regret that lie about in the crystallized world next to us. I will now perform a ritual so you can make peace with them.”

Waving her arms, Jiji chanted an incantation with a stony-faced expression. The Knight could feel something pulsing in their mind, _something_ powerful and invasive; it was as if the deepest corners of their being had been breached and were being reconstructed all at once. “Shah lo mu ta se lee mu ah!” chanted the confessor. Just then, a dark apparition manifested before the Knight and Jiji’s eyes. Jiji hastily went to hide in the rear of her chamber. The appearance of the being alerted Grimmchild, who flew over to stand by the Knight’s side. The Knight vanquished the entity with three quick consecutive slashes of their nail; the former regrets were dispelled from the material world, and rejoined the Knight in a process like absorption. The feelings of contrition that the Knight detected a while back were no longer there. 

“Ah yes,” said Jiji, who crept out of hiding. “I see that you have made peace with the regrets, dear knight. My services will still be of use to you in the future, I’m sure.” 

The confessor plopped down next to the rancid egg and looked at it gleefully, rubbing her hands together. “Mmm!” she crooned hungrily, “now that the deed is done, I can enjoy this morsel tremendously-”

_*whoosh*_

Like an arrow from a bow, Grimmchild swooped down and nabbed Jiji’s rancid egg. He flew outside of her chamber.

“...Eh?” questioned Jiji. She blinked and looked at the Knight. “Where is the egg? Do my eyes deceive me, or did your partner just eggnap my food?” 

The Knight glanced at the confessor, who sat dumbfounded. 

“The child took my food!” Jiji cried. “If you understand the severity of the situation, you will follow me outside, knight!” And with that statement, Jiji scampered towards the exit.

“Ah!” exclaimed Jiji; her cloak had got caught on an unlit candle. She tugged it off before hurrying outside. The little Knight followed. 

“Hello there!” said Jiji cautiously upon seeing Grimmchild. He held the rancid egg in his mouth, totally unaffected by its unpleasant taste and smell. _“Eh, how do I approach this one?”_

The confessor snuck a glimpse at the Knight behind her, who merely sat down in front of the confessor’s chamber, seemingly unbothered. Jiji swore she felt her eye twitch. 

“Little child!” yelled Jiji, “it is with a heavy heart that I must tell you...that egg is mine!”

Grimmchild tilted his head at the bug’s statement, earning a groan from Jiji. “Now, I know I cannot, under any circumstances, discipline you,” Jiji reasoned, “as I have a feeling you’ve a creator who would not be too happy about that.” The confessor shuddered at the thought; the moment she laid eyes on Grimmchild, she made the connection between him, the Knight, and the darkness she felt near the town to the west. Jiji knew that an ominous power like that was not to be trifled with. 

“Give me the egg,” pleaded Jiji, extending her hand, “I want to keep my head, and sanity too.”

Grimmchild nodded and flew over to hand the rancid food to Jiji. She took it carefully and cradled it like a newborn baby. “There, there morsel...”

The Knight and Grimmchild both looked at Jiji questioningly. She cleared her throat before speaking, “Yes well, I’m glad we are all on mutual terms, dear knight.” 

_“And glad that this is over with...the masters did not teach me how to deal with children.”_

Jiji snickered and headed over to her chamber, but Grimmchild blocked her way. “Oh, no no no! Let me be before my rancid egg grows more rancid, child.” Grimmchild shook his head and Jiji sighed, wondering what she could do to appease him. She pondered on it and could only think of one possibility. 

“Could it be...that my services might be of use to you, as well?” 

Grimmchild gave her a fervid nod before pointing his body towards the sky; immediately, Jiji understood.

“Ah, you curious little devil, you. The twinkles in the sky, yes?”

Jiji walked over to the Knight and sat next to them, placing her egg down on the ground carefully. She took a deep breath and ushered Grimmchild over with her antennae. The Knight fixed his gaze on Jiji as she placed one of her hands on his horn. She placed the other on Grimmchild’s head and took another deep breath before speaking.

“The stars are what you have seen, child. They do not appear here often. Maybe it is the universe’s way of telling us that this kingdom of Hallownest is doomed for darkness. Either way, they will not appear tonight.” 

Grimmchild leaned further into Jiji’s touch and she smiled. “I have seen them too. They’re beautiful, and tell an exquisite story.” 

The Knight shuffled closer to the talking Jiji. 

“Curious are we, dear knight? Let me continue. In comparison to the stars above, your purpose is small, very very small, much like yourself. I do not say that to poke fun at you, but when you look at the stars, you yourself feel unreal. When you think about the domain in which the stars dwell, your own world seems rather insignificant. It is a whole other realm, beyond you, beyond me, and beyond the land of Hallownest.”

Confessor Jiji relaxed her body; the female bug but hadn’t realized she was so tense while speaking. She blamed the notion of the universe’s ambiguity for disturbing her. 

“And now, I will deliver the final service of the day to you, dear knight, and your child.” 

Tightening her grip on the Knight and Grimmchild, Jiji closed her eyes and chanted another incantation, different from the first; the confessor seemed to scintillate with a white light as she spoke.

“Lu Lu, Lu Ah, Fwah Kee Shu Domi!” 

A projection of an unknown location materialized in front of the trio: there were thick trees and enormous mountains that stood tall among verdant, flowery fields below them. Strong winds carried away petals into the night; a nearby stream deposited fresh water to an area that could not be discerned in the projection. The most eye-catching aspect of the image were the innumerable stars sprinkled across the sky. 

The Knight and Grimmchild both eyeballed the projection without making a sound. 

“Contrary to what you may believe, that image I have just displayed is happening in real time. That location is in a land more distant than you can imagine. But it is existing within our same reality. I called upon certain forces to show us this projection. The child wanted to see the stars, after all.” 

Grimmchild flew over to confessor Jiji and licked her cheek, erupting laughter from her. “Being in this fated place can feel...suffocating sometimes. Do you agree, knight?” 

There was contemplative silence following the question; finally, the projection Jiji conjured had disappeared. The bug took a bite of her rancid egg and made a sound of pleasure. She swallowed and looked at the Knight, only to find them peering at her. Jiji chuckled, “You have a destiny, knight. If I can make your mind deviate while you follow through on it, then I am content.” 

Jiji stood up and gave one last acknowledgement to the Knight and Grimmchild before returning back to her dwelling. The Knight remained in their spot and leaned tiredly against the cold material of Jiji’s chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confessor Jiji's second power in this chapter is made up for the purposes of my story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 also known as guess who's clown of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *complains that Team Cherry gives too much to shitty Zote*  
> Also me: Has this chapter and the next planned for him. For story's sake tho lol.

“Are-are you sure we should be down here, Prince Zote?” said Bretta, a lovestruck romantic who was formerly trapped in Hallownest’s Fungal Wastes. This used to be the case, but the Knight discovered her and Bretta was stranded no more. After meeting Zote, that was quickly forgotten though.

“Ah quiet, my lass--you won’t get to hear precept fifteen! Now where was I…” Zote responded, preoccupied. 

When Zote returned from the Colosseum of Fools, he went back to Dirtmouth and told tall tales of his valor and victories. Bretta was young and fairly naive though, so of course she jumped at the chance to experience the life of a bug so strong. After Zote announced that he heard of great and yellow beasts that roamed near Kingdom’s Edge, he swore to slay them--but not before insisting that Bretta come along to experience a “once in a lifetime opportunity.”

And so this is how Bretta and Zote came to be in The Hive, a large structure home to the merciless bees. Zote’s plan was fairly simple: pursue the Knight, who would also be exploring the Hive, and take “credit where it is due.” Once the Knight slayed a Hive Guardian, Zote would rush to the scene, sword in hand to claim victory. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Bretta’s face!

As for what the Knight was doing in The Hive? Grimm, the Leader of the Grimm Troupe, had told them to go in search of the flames which would feed Grimmchild; there were many throughout Hallownest, and one of the flames was in The Hive. The Knight felt like he had no choice but to comply with Grimm’s odd endeavor, especially if it was beneficial to Grimmchild. 

The Hive was built similar to the structure of a honeycomb. All throughout the area were golden globs of honey and various breakable, crystal-like structures. In some places, there were even tables, shelves and chairs. Bretta, who was tired from walking, asked Zote if they could take a moment’s rest--a request which the latter denied, claiming that “later is simply not an option, we mustn't hesitate.” No enemies had come to attack Zote and Bretta, as they had more or less already been dealt with by the Knight and Grimmchild. The quietude of The Hive made Bretta feel slightly apprehensive of pressing onwards, but Zote declared it was his “unmistakable bravery and beauty” that caused the bees to conceal themselves. 

“Grey Prince...are we close to the great, yellow beasts you spoke of?” Bretta questioned, tiredness evident in her voice. As Zote rambled on about his so-called “Fifty-Seven Precepts”, Bretta scanned the area, almost as if she were playing I spy with herself. She felt scared to be in another place that wasn’t Dirtmouth, but felt safeguarded with Zote by her side. The female bug thought the Hive quite icky, but told Zote she “liked the color scheme.” Zote agreed and expressed how it reminded him of the beautiful Daffodils back home that were “radiant, just like you, Bretta.” In the midst of all of Zote’s madness, one could not help but feel some slight warmth for their relationship. 

“We are very close,” Zote driveled, “I can feel it in my gut, Bretta. Be on your guard and run if you see danger, for even I cannot multitask!” 

\----------

There came a point where Zote and Bretta had to halt due to an unfortunate episode in their venture. Though Zote did not want to stop and rest (for fear of losing sight of the Knight), Bretta took a seat at one of The Hive’s tables regardless, saying that it would only be for a quick, five minute rest. At this, Zote’s heart dropped, and he left Bretta momentarily and without a word to try and keep track of the Knight’s movements. Had it not been for a large wall of hardened honey that Zote could hide behind, he would have been spotted by the curious eyes of Grimmchild. Though the Knight scarcely looked behind them, Grimmchild often went off on his own to play with an object here and there.  _ “Goodness...” _ thought Zote, stifling a gasp when Grimmchild briskly turned in his direction. He waited a few seconds before returning to follow the Knight’s path. Zote felt relieved when the Knight stumbled across a large chamber filled to the brim with enemies.  _ “Hmph! That oughta take them a few minutes to deal with.”  _

Hurriedly, Zote went to fetch Bretta, but stopped in his tracks when he came to a passage with  _ two  _ routes. Both looked extremely similar, and Zote was unsure of how to proceed.  _ “Did I pass by these?”  _

Just then, Bretta’s clamorous voice disrupted his thoughts, and he rushed off in the direction it was coming from.

“Grey Prince! Grey Prince Zote where are you-”

Shoulders heaving as he panted, Zote moved clumsily as he presented himself to the screaming Bretta. Her antennas perked up and she watched the short bug quietly as he trudged to take a seat at the table where Bretta was situated. Bretta opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, seeing that Zote was still recuperating. Zote let out an exasperated sigh and cleared his throat before talking, “Okay. I am okay now.” 

“That’s a relief,” said Bretta.

“We-we should go now,” Zote faltered, though it sounded like more of a demand than anything. “I have found the beast’s lair.” 

Nodding, Bretta gave Zote a small clap before standing up, or attempting to. Before she sat down earlier, Bretta failed to notice the glob of honey on the chair that was now binding her. “Ugh, how icky,” Bretta mumbled, clearly frustrated.

“What was that?”

“I’m stuck,” Bretta pointed out. 

\----------

Zote thought the gods and goddesses really had it out for him today. “What do you mean you’re stuck?” Zote groaned. It sounded more vehement than he intended it to. 

“Well it’s your fault I’m in this situation in the first place--now help me!” snapped Bretta. Zote winced at the tone in Bretta’s voice. He took hold of Bretta’s arms and tried pulling, but it was futile. Zote gave Bretta a look of desperation, but was shut down quickly by her annoyed expression. She crossed her arms and quirked a brow, “Well you need to think of something, Grey Prince.” 

“Yes yes I’m on it, woman!” Zote huffed. After some more arm pulling attempts (and lots of quarrelling), Zote managed to ease Bretta out of the chair with the help of his shellwood blade, Life Ender. Bretta was surprised by Life Ender’s bluntness, but Zote hastily quieted her shock by saying it was a “multipurpose dual-edged blade, with sharpness for killing and a blunt edge for other stuff.” 

“Thank you, Zotie!” Bretta exclaimed after being freed. She scooched over next to Zote and kissed the side of his face, blushing madly afterwards. Zote felt his stomach churn and heart flutter.   
“You’re welcome,” he said rather stupidly. Zote didn’t think he had been kissed before. He felt rather dazed.

But the daze ended and worry seeped in when the Grey Prince realized he had  _ absolutely no idea  _ where the Knight might be now. He palmed his forehead like he was checking for a fever, cause in that moment, Zote really felt as if he were going to be sick. 

“Zote? Zote?”

No response came from the Grey Prince. He was too pensive, too worried, and knew that one wrong turn down the tunnels of The Hive might result in certain injury--or death. Zote wasn’t just thinking about himself now, but Bretta too, who accompanied him so loyally. Guilt washed over him, but Zote didn’t let his expression betray his calm demeanor. 

“For crying out loud Zote speak to me! Don’t keep a lady wondering.” 

Zote glanced at Bretta and motioned for her to be quiet. “Why...” Bretta’s voice trailed off, but she did as she was told. 

The Grey Prince knew the way out of The Hive, but then what? Be discovered as a sham, and let his promise of glory to himself be broken? If not, then possibly run into merciless bees and be stung to death? No one was going to come to their rescue should it come to that. 

But Zote felt like he was being too pessimistic. The Knight probably cleared out all the bees, and it was safe to walk around. Yes, that had to be it, Zote convinced himself. He would find the remains of a Hive Guardian and claim victory like he originally planned. Then, he and Bretta could return to Dirtmouth and run off into the non-existent sunset. It was foolproof.

Pointing his blade to nowhere in particular, Zote grabbed Bretta’s hand tightly and spoke ever so adamantly and fearlessly, “Witness greatness, beautiful Bretta!” 

Then Zote ran and Bretta did too. He ran as far as his stubby little legs would allow him, not stopping to look for any enemies or potential directions. Bretta wasn’t sure what was going on, but the bug let herself be taken away by what she perceived was a mysterious and gallant prince. She couldn’t wait to get back home and gush over him.

The two had to stop for a break though. They chatted for a little, and Zote went on another speech about his Fifty-Seven Precepts, and Bretta eagerly listened. They were both so besotted with each other (Zote more so with his potential claim to glory), that they failed to notice the numerous flying bees hovering over them. There weren’t just Hivelings though, but Hive Soldiers and Hive Guardians, who were alerted to the presence of intruders in their precious home. Finally, Zote was shut up by the unmistakable sound of buzzing edging nearer and nearer, until it was right above them. A Hive Soldier locked eyes with Bretta, then Zote, before shrieking angrily and pointing his stinger at the duo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter jaja (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 also known as guess who's clown of the day part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the conclusion of this storyyy. It will all come together soon enough.

Zote would have liked to run away, run away as far as possible like Bretta did, but he was frozen in fear. He couldn’t help it--it was a natural reaction. He felt overwhelmed, _absolutely overpowered_ by the situation. Zote thought that maybe it was better this way. His life had been a failure and now, it was going to be terminated rather brutally, but it was for the best. Right? 

Bretta ran right when the Hive Soldier aimed at them, but in that moment she had been too busy thinking about herself that she forgot to take Zote with her. _“No no no!”_ Bretta’s mind screamed. _“Why do you just stand there, Grey Prince?”_

“Run oh goodness run!” shouted Bretta without thinking, but seeing Zote get clobbered was the least of her problems. Hivelings began chasing her. She started crying and scampered to wherever there weren’t any enemies. No good though, because she was eventually spotted by a Hive Guardian. Zote, still paralyzed with fear, could only gape like a fish out of water as the Hive Soldier’s stinger made contact. The pain was agonizing, and Zote shot across the room and collided into a yellow, crystallized wall; the impact from the Hive Soldier’s sting was so great that the wall shattered when Zote slammed into it. 

“AHHH!” Zote wailed. He couldn’t even stand now. He tried to crawl away, desperate to just flee from his misfortune, but the Hive Soldier tackled him speedily. Zote went flying like a rag doll and landed on the floor face down. 

\----------

Bretta had a bit more luck; she managed to evade every single one of the Hive Guardian’s attacks, but she didn’t know where to go, where to hide. She was frail, just a regular bug, who knew nothing of fighting and combat. “Someone please help us!” Bretta cried in anguish. She had heard Zote’s cry of agony, and it only served to fuel the rush of adrenaline within her. Bretta was scared, but not terrified to the point where she couldn’t move. Bugs are pretty good at fleeing at the sight of danger, and that’s exactly what Bretta did. Miraculously, she ran a circle in the room without getting hit by a single attack. Perhaps there was a bit of a warrior in Bretta, because she swiftly grabbed the fallen Grey Prince’s body and slid underneath a Hive Guardian who rushed her. Then, she ducked just in time to avoid a Hive Soldier’s lethal stinger. Victory was short lived though, because three Hivelings intercepted Bretta and tackled her. She and Zote both flew back, but Bretta didn’t let go of his battered body. She gripped him tightly and stood her ground, giving The Hive’s residents a hard gaze. Against any real danger though, that was all Bretta could do. “Grey Prince--” Bretta whispered, backing away from the approaching bees, “please don’t let me die like this.” As if possessed by a demonic force, Zote rose to his feet and unsheathed his shellwood blade. In this battle, it was completely useless. But Zote made a promise to himself long ago. Rejected by family and the rest of the world, Zote wasn’t about to let the one person who showed him any sort of interest perish. He shielded Bretta from the bees’ view and pointed his blade at them. It looked quite heroic--and it was--but the effort in itself was a futile one. 

“Zote--” Bretta said, but the Grey Prince cut her off.

“Don’t you move from behind me--”

“Are we gonna be okay?” Bretta said feebly. 

“Yes of course, do you realize who you’re talking to?” Zote braced himself for the onslaught of stingers and bodies. _“Today, I’ll be a hero, even if I'm dead.”_

“Th-The Grey Prince?” Bretta didn’t sound very convinced. She curled into a ball and tried to control her breathing. She didn’t realize that she had been panting the whole time. 

“HAHHH!” Zote rushed forward in attack. He swore he felt a single tear slide down his cheek as he did. Before Zote could even register what happened next, a flash of light shot through the air and decimated the bees who were about to make quick work of Zote. The atmosphere quieted, and both Zote and Bretta turned their heads in the direction which the blast came from.

It was none other than the Knight and Grimmchild. The latter looked super satisfied with the destruction of the enemies. Something about the child was different, too; perhaps he had acquired one of his flames, just like their father wanted them too.

“You?!” Zote growled. He clenched his fist and stomped on the ground rather angrily. He was saved, but was not very grateful. 

Bretta, on the other hand, stared at the Knight in awe. The creature who saved her previously and who she had forgotten about was right here, saving her again. “Oh my...” Bretta murmured, wide eyed. 

\----------

The Knight, as silent as a stone, went into battle with the bees quickly and effortlessly. Hive Soldiers thrusted themselves at the Knight, but they dodged and released spells from their body at the bees. They were soon vanquished, leaving only Hive Guardians and Hivelings behind. Grimmchild fearlessly spat fire at the enormous assailants, and the Knight took care of the small bees with two quick slashes of their nail. Everything was going smoothly, until a certain bug could no longer bear to be silent or still anymore.

“Why do you always have to show off!” Zote said through clenched teeth. Against all logical reasoning, he thrust himself into battle with the Knight, who merely glanced at him before resuming their duties. Zote was still injured, but he didn’t care. He was too disgruntled. 

“That stupid, stoic look on your face, it is disgusting!” Zote snarled. The Knight glanced at Zote again. Bretta gasped when she saw Zote rush to the Knight’s side. Although she did think it looked epic, Zote didn’t exactly do anything to the enemies they faced earlier. “Zote?!” yelled Bretta. The bug smirked at her. “Just be quiet and watch me!” 

And she did watch him. Just when the Knight was about to slash a charging Hive Guardian, Zote pushed them and took their place, much to Bretta’s horror. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Getting glory!” Zote proclaimed. It was very likely he was in denial of the events that had taken place not too long ago. Nobody really knows what goes on in Zote’s head. 

He should’ve taken the Hive Guardian’s thunderous hit, but the Knight did instead. They dashed in front of Zote to safeguard him. The Knight’s mask cracked, and black liquid began oozing out. 

Grimmchild (knowing full well that his keeper’s injury was Zote’s fault), glared at Zote maliciously. In that moment, warmth and any sort of positive emotion fleeted from the child. When Zote caught wind of Grimmchild’s expression, he recoiled and darted his eyes away. Grimmchild grinned at his obvious discomfort. 

“No No! Are you okay?!” Bretta shouted to the Knight. They couldn’t answer.  
“I’m quite alright!” Zote responded to the question that was not intended for him. 

“Not you--watch out!” 

The situation quickly spiraled out of control; whenever the Knight went to attack a Hive Guardian, Zote would leap into action. It wasn’t like it was a joint effort though. Zote got in the Knight’s way, and had to constantly be rescued. In the rush to protect the Grey Prince from harm’s way, the Knight let their guard down and took damage without really meaning to. This happened multiple times. Soon enough, the Knight incurred enough damage to the point where it was hard for them to stand up straight. The black liquid from earlier was now trickling uncontrollably. This did not go unnoticed by Zote or Bretta.

Grimmchild tried to shoot more flames from their mouth to counteract the situation’s severity. They were only so effective, though. The child wasn’t fully developed and at full power, that much was clear. 

Zote, in a delusional state of madness, shouted obscenities at the bees and the Knight for supposedly taking away his glory. Bretta covered her face in her hands, unsure of what to do. She silently cursed Zote for being so idiotic, selfish, and ungrateful. Nothing was going to be the same between them after this, and Bretta knew it.

“Not so great are you now?!” Zote hissed at the Knight. They didn’t pay any mind to him, but Grimmchild grew angry. He growled and snarled at Zote, but the bug didn’t pay him any attention. He was too busy fighting an imaginary battle that he was about to win. 

The Knight had depleted most of their power reserves. Normally, in a situation like this, the Knight would have fled and lived to fight another day. Things were different this time around though. They couldn’t shake off the strong urge to safeguard the two bugs in the room, at all costs.

\----------

The battle continued on to no effect for another few minutes. Unluckily, the Knight, Zote, and Grimmchild were backed into a corner. Fear flashed across Zote’s face when he felt the wall against his back, but the Knight simply stood their ground as they always did. Bretta fainted when she saw what looked like a completely hopeless situation. Before she did though, she caught a glimpse of a tall and imposing figure flying across the room at lightning speed. It was Troupe Master Grimm. With a snap of his claws, Grimm summoned flames that instantly demolished the Hive Guardians, leaving only the acrid smell of smoke behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's okay if my readers hate Zote after this. I mean he's not really likable to begin with.  
> -  
> How did Grimm know where the Knight was and that he was in danger? Well that'll be disclosed next time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *has a two page, single-spaced paper due on how the economic machine works*  
> Me: Yeah college is cool, but Hollow Knight is cooler.  
> -  
> A big thank you to all my readers, you guys are seriously awesome and help motivate me!

The sound of buzzing ceased completely. No bees, whether large, small, or medium remained in the vicinity. The Knight was still seeping black liquid from cracks in their mask—their body was shuddering. Bretta was on the floor and passed out. The Grey Prince looked like he had just seen a ghost. Grimmchild was happy, obviously content with the appearance of his father. And Grimm? He didn’t say a word—he simply scanned the room before flying over to the Knight and company. Grimm looked at his child, who smiled from ear to ear, and Grimm smiled back. Then, he looked at Zote, who quickly averted his gaze. Grimm studied him for a moment; he didn’t seem too pleased with the Grey Prince after a few seconds of looking him up and down. The Troupe Master turned around and saw the unconscious Bretta, and he frowned. The Knight glanced up and met Grimm’s gaze. The latter signaled for the Knight to be quiet by putting a claw up to his mouth. It was probably a joke of some kind—Grimm knew the Knight wasn’t able to speak. 

“I see you acquired the flames from this hive, little vessel. But aren’t you in a sorry state.”

And they were, truly. 

“Oh, but I know what transpired. I wouldn’t have—” Grimm said, looking at Grimmchild, “if the child didn’t get so angry. I felt the deep emotion, and I looked through his eyes.” 

He opened his black cloak, revealing his shiny, red shell and thin, black legs. Grimmchild readily leapt inside and nestled himself in the comfort of darkness. 

“Here you were, carrying out the ritual…” Grimm motioned around the room. “But you were interrupted by these simple bugs...feeble and inadequate to the core.” 

Instinctively, Zote scowled at Grimm’s comment, but he didn’t dare look up. He squirmed in position when he felt eyes leering at him, burning a hole through his soul. Zote just wanted to be left alone. The cold looks didn’t stop though. The intensity was too much for Zote, who cracked and finally peered up nervously, hoping it was all in his imagination. But it wasn’t. Zote was now one of few creatures who bore witness to Troupe Master Grimm’s venomous gaze. His scarlet eyes were imbued with something profound and suggestive of evil—something never before seen by the Knight—even when they battled him. Zote had been held hostage by the mandibles of a hungry Vengefly King, trapped in Deepnest by infected weavers, and nearly died in the Colosseum of Fools. None of that compared to what Zote was experiencing right now though; his fear, dread, and horror all synthesized into a single emotional mass that nearly asphyxiated him. 

“You almost killed my child and the vessel, you’re aware of that, right?” 

The Grey Prince nodded fearfully, and Grimm narrowed his eyes until they were but small slits.

“Riddle me something, won’t you, little creature?” Grimm’s gruff and sinister voice echoed through the room. Zote didn’t want to riddle Grimm anything. He was absolutely chilled to the marrow. He wanted to explode—the pressure of existing was too much. 

“Wh-what?” Zote’s voice came out as a squeak. His mouth quivered and he was also shaking.

“Why do you shake?” Grimm said callously. He leaned down and his face met Zote’s scared one directly. Grimm’s glowing, scarlet eyes looked even more menacing up close. Zote wanted the sticky floor to swallow him right then and there. 

“Your injuries...we should tend to those,” Grimm told Zote.

“H-huh? W-what?”

Grimm moved away from Zote, and the Grey Prince let out an exasperated breath. “ _Maybe it’s time to beat a hasty retreat—”_

As if his thoughts were being read, Grimm unceremoniously grabbed Zote by the head with one of his hands. Zote thrashed and squirmed in total panic, and his heart began racing at speeds thought impossible. 

“W-what are you d-doing?!”

When the Knight saw Grimm grab Zote, they sprang up and unsheathed their nail. The little Knight stared at the Troupe Master—visibly ready for battle. Zote continued to thrash, attempting to free himself. This only made Grimm grapple him more roughly.

“Ah yes…” Grimm said, “I didn’t finish asking you what I was supposed to.”

The Knight leapt and tried to slash Grimm, but he easily dodged. “What was the meaning of your interference, hm? Your blade is clearly vain—”

“It-it’s not—” Zote croaked.

The Knight wasn’t sure if Zote was in any danger, but they were cautious with attacking. They still hadn’t had the chance to properly recover from the damage earlier. The black fluid from the Knight amassed into a small pool on the ground. 

“See, the little vessel, he’s quite marvelous,” Grimm expressed, “and his end would cause me a great deal of unhappiness. With that being said—” Grimm held the wriggling Zote up to his face, “what made you think you were at the level of the vessel, when you in fact do not hold a single candle to them?” 

Zote stopped thrashing and looked down, pondering on Grimm’s question. Grimm didn’t care about his sob story, he was probably looking for a good enough reason as to why he shouldn’t end Zote’s life—or so Zote thought.

The Knight relaxed; it seems they were too enervated to want to fight anyway. As long as Grimm wasn’t going to hurt Zote, the Knight had no real reason to jump into battle. 

“Hey you, please h-help me,” Zote pleaded. The Knight skimmed over his expression, but made no move to do so. Without notice, Grimm released Zote from his grasp and he fell with a loud thud.

“You’ll be okay, little vessel,” Grimm said to the Knight. “The void leaking is just a small part of a bigger whole. Regardless, until you reach a good-enough area to rest in, I will keep you safe.” 

\----------

Before the Knight and Grimm departed, Bretta had awoken. She was confused to see someone else with them, but didn’t ask questions. Grimm introduced himself to Bretta—their meeting was terse, but civil. She assumed that Grimm was the reason why they were all alive, and why Zote was on the floor lying face down. He hadn’t changed position since Grimm abruptly dropped him.

“Grey Prince?” Bretta questioned, prodding him gently with her foot. Zote didn’t make a sound or even twist a little. She glanced at Grimm and the Knight, but they looked like they were just about ready to leave. The Knight appeared to be slightly more relieved than they were earlier--Bretta was glad. 

“Um…” Bretta started. The Troupe Master eyed Bretta and she averted her gaze slightly. “May we accompany you? If it’s not too much trouble…” 

“That is fine.” Grimm pointed to Zote, “But if the scowling one continues to play dead, we will leave him behind.” 

“I-I’m not playing dead.” Zote’s voice was muffled as he spoke. Bretta helped him up and they exchanged a greeting. 

“It is in your best interest to follow us closely. If you fall, I won’t be at all phased,” Grimm explained, and Bretta knew he wasn’t kidding. She breathed out a quiet ‘thank you,’ too timid to say it out loud. Grimm heard it and the corners of his mouth crinkled into a smile.

As the group headed out of The Hive, the Knight stayed close to Grimm’s side. Bretta and Zote were attached by the hip, following closely behind the duo. No one really spoke except Grimm, who was eager to converse with the Knight. 

“It isn’t your first time saving the scowling one, is it, little vessel? You don’t cease to amaze me. There’s always more to you than meets the eye. Do you do it because you care? Can you even? Would you have been ready to dance with me if that bug’s life was on the line?” 

Bretta couldn't help but listen in on the conversation in front of her. She knew the world was vast, and there was a lot she didn’t know or understand. The two beings in front of Bretta weren’t like her or Zote, that much she deciphered. _“Little vessel?”_ Bretta pondered. 

\----------

The group arrived at Kingdom’s Edge. There were some Hivelings and a great deal of Booflys, but Grimm only attacked the bees and other hostile enemies. _“These large ones are placid creatures, we don’t have to waste our breath,”_ said Grimm. He stopped the Knight whenever they tried to engage in combat, saying that they were “not in optimal condition to be fighting.” Every time Grimm flawlessly defeated an enemy, Zote grumped and huffed. He was unaware that the Troupe Master noticed every single annoyed and drawn-out breath. Bretta marveled at Grimm’s sheer amount of power, and she grew to feel less apprehensive and more secure in his presence. 

“Scowling one…” Grimm began, stopping in his tracks. The Knight and Bretta followed, but Zote continued onwards. Ignoring the Troupe Master was Zote’s first mistake. The Grey Prince cursed under his breath and Grimm chuckled—his rich voice made Bretta shudder in unease. 

“You’d do well to be more humble, little bug.” 

Suddenly, Grimm disappeared and reappeared in a column of flames—right in front of Zote. Bretta stared wide eyed, but the Knight was as stoic as ever. Zote’s breath hitched and he gulped nervously. He felt small, _too small._

_“_ Where are your manners?” Grimm lilted. Amusement flickered in his eyes, and he stared Zote down like a predator chasing prey.  
“Oh, Grey Prince…” Bretta murmured worriedly. She looked at the Knight, but they were just monitoring the event in silence. 

“Answer me.”

Zote not responding to Grimm’s demand was his second mistake. He was frozen in fear, just like earlier, back at The Hive. 

“Hm, so there really is only one way your kind will respond,” Grimm said, his gaze hard and unyielding. He outstretched his claws and summoned a ball of fire which pulsated with energy. Zote gaped at Grimm, then the flame and he saw his life flash right before his eyes. The Knight briskly dashed forward in a cloak of darkness and put themselves between Grimm and Zote—but they didn’t unsheathe their weapon. Grimm’s expression softened and he lowered his hand. 

“I see.” His voice had an unusual tone to it, almost like he had discovered a piece of something needed to complete an entire puzzle. 

“Let’s go,” Grimm uttered. And that was the end of that incident. Bretta ushered Zote over hurriedly when she saw him staring off into space. _“What just happened? I’m alive?”_

\----------

The rest of the journey was mostly uneventful, save for the appearance of Great Hoppers and Zote and Bretta’s constant screaming. _“Just be quiet!”_ Grimm hissed at various points of their short-lived expedition. The Knight did as they were told and stayed out of combat, letting the Troupe Master do all the heavy lifting. Grimmchild was sleeping in their father’s cloak, content to be blissfully unaware of what was going on around them. Zote spared Grimm a few curious glances here and there, and Bretta started to feel woozy whenever Grimm looked their way.   
_“He’s so...cool and sinister!”_ she would say to herself, squealing internally. 

Finally, the group arrived at the City of Tears, and made their way to the nearest Stag Station. Upon reaching it, the Knight scurried over to rest on their favorite bench. The bench’s restorative power mended the Knight’s cracked shell, and filled him with vitality. 

Zote and Bretta decided to lounge on the cold ground, simply content to be alive.

“I’m glad that you’re in one piece, little vessel,” Grimm said, and the Knight stared at him. “I learned something else about you today. Would you like to hear it?”

Maybe the Knight didn’t, but Grimm could never tell. “The shared bug experience...being in it is one thing, but choosing to engage in it?” 

And the Knight just nodded. Grimm’s scarlet eyes glinted curiously and he gazed at the little creature deeply. The Knight returned the gesture, but whether any emotion or feeling was present was impossible to perceive. 

Just then, Grimmchild slipped out from under his father’s cloak, yawning but otherwise very energized. He nuzzled Grimm’s face and the Troupe Master happily reciprocated the affection. “Our child grows stronger...how wonderful.” 

The light sound of raindrops resounded frequently and over and over again. It was a little cold, and Bretta huddled up for warmth next to a sleepy Zote. His heavy-eyed face looked more tired than usual. He nodded off and stirred back up various times. Bretta reassured Zote that they were okay, and that they’d be at Dirtmouth soon enough. 

Grimm hummed softly to the sound of cascading water, and to the faraway resonance of a singing voice—one that was vivid but somber in cast. He knew it belonged to a soul who hadn’t yet departed from the world of the living. 

“I will go now, and you should do the same,” Grimm announced. “Besides, I think there’s something you’d like to see, back at the fading town, that is.” 

Grimm approached Zote and Bretta, and Zote jumped to his feet. Grimm chortled. He waited for Zote to compose himself before speaking. “Zote...remember to respect your superiors. Right?” Playfulness lighted the Troupe Master’s eyes, and Zote’s face scrunched up in confusion. When Zote realized this statement was in reference to his precepts, he gasped and stared open-mouthed. 

The Grey Prince’s third and final mistake was not taking his own advice. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Grimm said, bowing to Zote and Bretta before vanishing under a veil of scarlet flames. The resounding sound of fire caused the Stag Station’s bell to tinkle, and the familiar sound of a creature’s loud footsteps edged nearer. The Old Stag came into view, ready to serve expectant passengers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zote be like no please don't kill me i'm so sexy aha.  
> -  
> Have ya'll noticed there's still one character from the tags who hasn't been shown yet? Last but certainly not least!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel is the best character in HK, sorry I don't make the rules.

_ “It’s so cloudy...I can hardly make out the sky...what is the meaning of this? The weather here is not very unpredictable...might it rain?” _

Quirrel’s mind was filled with questions. After having been in the underground for an excessive amount of time, he decided he needed a break.  _ “Some fresh air ought to do me good,” _ he said to himself. The explorer had already visited multiple places, some that the Knight visited too: Crystal Peak, Deepnest, the City of Tears. All of it fueled Quirrel’s curiosity regarding the long-lost land of Hallownest. But the pillbug felt like he couldn’t really think properly with the strained atmosphere in the caverns below. Even in a beautifully lush place like Greenpath, Quirrel was uncomfortable with how it teemed with life—life that was more zombie-like than anything. He simply needed a time to gather his thoughts peacefully, with few disturbances, and without the need to always be alert. 

“In this place, you’re either alert or you're dead.” Quirrel repeated his message that he expressed to the Knight previously. It wasn’t to scare them or anything of that sort, but that was the reality of the current situation. Quirrel wanted his little friend to be safe—though given the amount of times he ran into the Knight, that didn’t seem like it was going to be a very big problem. He chuckled,  _ “So short! And cute! But clearly very strong...”  _

Quirrel was in Dirtmouth, sitting on the famed but lonely bench. Elderbug remembered his face, and he kindly greeted him and struck up a light conversation. Quirrel was happy to converse with the elder, who he said was “very good natured.” Elderbug returned the compliment, saying that there weren’t too many benevolent individuals like Quirrel left in Hallownest.

“Hm, so why do you explore that ruin, if I may ask?” said Elderbug. 

Quirrel fixed the large mask on his head and eased one leg over the other. “I don’t see it as a ruin. Quite frankly, I find it beautiful...I guess the most basic answer is that I feel called to explore what lies beneath.” 

The elder frowned. “Called...by who?” 

Quirrel shifted his gaze from Elderbug to the clouds above. They glided through the air bit by bit; they were grayish in tone and quite fluffy too. From Quirrel’s point of view, the sky looked boundless and he felt just a little more liberated from the odd way his life was moving forward.

“I...don’t know,” he said wistfully. The uncertainty Quirrel faced was something he mulled over on an hourly basis. There were times he questioned if he could just be—live in the present moment without thinking about how it would affect him tomorrow, or the day after that. 

But that wasn’t right. Quirrel could be carefree, he most certainly could—but being careless was too big of a gamble. It was one gamble he wasn’t willing to undertake. If something tragic were to happen to Quirrel before he could discover the untraceable source—the one that prompted his quest around Hallownest—then he’d be lost forever. There’d be no going back from his fate at that point. Quirrel was nearly swept away by the sea of apprehension which transgressed into the stability of his mind. Luckily, the gentle voice of an old but understanding bug hoisted him back up into reality. 

“Don’t look so somber, young one,” Elderbug consoled. Quirrel blinked and breathed out a deep puff of air. 

“Sorry, I—” 

“No, no,” said Elderbug, “you don’t have to apologize for anything—I see it in your eyes. You were nearly lost by uncertainty.”

Quirrel looked at the rugged ground beneath them. “Ah, I didn’t intend for it.”

“I know. I am old, but I still feel darkness creep into my mind, too. If there's something out there that helps light your way, then look to it. Maybe you don’t have something to look to, and that’s okay as well. You’ll find peace when you seek it, I just know it.” Elderbug nodded reassuringly. Quirrel’s body unwinded and he adjusted the sizable mask on his head carefully. “You’re too kind, my friend…” 

“Will you stay here?” Elderbug inquired, looking at Quirrel expectantly. The pillbug shook his head and stood up from his place on the bench. “No, but I may come back. I’m heading over there.” 

He pointed to the area near the King’s Pass—Elderbug followed his motion and looked at Quirrel. “Oh, I remember that place. It’s not as peaceful as our little town...I’d rather stay here.”

Quirrel laughed, “I’m sure you’ve seen enough.” He adjusted the long nail on his waist before turning to leave; he waved to the elder and the old bug smiled. 

The wind in Dirtmouth picked up just enough to move the vagrant clouds a little faster. Quirrel glanced at the sky and caught a fleeting glimpse of something luminous; the light quickly receded from his view behind an unbroken expanse of overcast. Quirrel’s eyes widened and he scoured the atmosphere for another rift in the clouds, but nothing emerged; every inch of the sky was covered by a thick, grey curtain. 

_ “It’s not going to rain, is it?”  _

\----------

_ “Whatever you do, watch out for those tents! I don’t know when they got here, but they might be trouble…” _

And those “tents” Elderbug talked about were huge and lurid, you couldn’t miss them. Quirrel noticed them almost immediately, and as friendly as he was, he had no plans of saying hello to whomever resided within. He made his way towards the entry to King’s pass, clutching the grip of his nail ever so tightly. Between now and reaching King’s Pass, he needed to exercise caution.

Quirrel swore he saw a dark figure from out of the corner of his eye, but it vanished behind the largest tent. He stopped walking and decided to study the tents for a bit: there were torches with scarlet colored flames on either side of the big tent. On the left side of that tent, was a smaller one that looked exactly like the first. They both had three apertures that manifested an illusion of a screaming face--or maybe one in despair? Quirrel believed it was probably intentional.  _ “Odd taste, for sure.”  _

Quirrel strolled past the Grimmsteeds--the lofty creatures who belonged to the owners of the tents--the Grimm Troupe. They had been loafing on the ground in front of the tents, but their heads perked up when they saw Quirrel draw nearer. They looked at him curiously, and Quirrel did the same.  _ “Such interesting creatures…” _

As the pillbug nudged the smaller tent, he heard a shrill, feminine laugh come from inside. He figured it was one of the creatures who was responsible for the tent's appearances. A small part of him wanted to know  _ who _ or  _ what _ exactly that was, but his better judgement decided against it.

Quirrel heard more laughing, and then the sound of an instrument began filling the air. But the instrument--which sounded like an accordion--wasn’t coming from the smallest tent. It almost certainly came from the large one. The player of the accordion clearly had skill, and Quirrel found the playing quite nice, albeit fairly ominous. 

He paused his advancements towards King’s Pass to fix the slumping mask on his head. He had only been adjusting the mask for a few seconds, but that was clearly enough time for a mysterious presence to make itself known to Quirrel. He blinked, and suddenly, a red and black creature of considerable size was in his sight. The pillbug was shocked, but not afraid as their eyes locked briefly. The red and black creature smiled and moved aside and out of Quirrel’s way.

“Pardon me,” he said, his voice growly and chilling. When Quirrel blinked again, the mysterious figure was gone. The bug looked in front of, around, and behind him, but there were only the Grimmsteeds and the scarlet tents. One of the torch’s flames went out, but was brought back to life but an unseen force; it burned fitfully and a few of its sparks landed on the ground.

The sky was still veiled by clouds that did not budge--it was almost like they were trying to conceal something very special and off-limits. There was the occasional sound of laughter from inside the smaller tent, and the accordion now played a different tune. It sounded more merry than the last song, it even caught the attention of the Grimmsteeds who laid on the ground. 

Quirrel wanted to know more about the tents, the Grimmsteeds, the figure clad in red and black, but he refrained from giving them further thought. It was for his own good--after all, he came up to think peacefully, not to ponder on new and foreign mysteries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimm be like new face who dis.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How bout a fic where the Old Stag overhears Tiso's comment about him being servile and then he kicks his ass

Grimm didn’t know it, but leaving the trio back at the City of Tears was for his own good. Bretta and Zote were content with the fact that they would be home soon, but realized that the day’s events made them feel very crabby. Zote was even more ill-tempered than Bretta was, and probably embarrassed at what happened earlier, too. 

So when the Old Stag showed up, Zote insisted that he sit in the front all by himself because he needed to “keep an eye out for him.” He was likely referring to Grimm, but Bretta didn’t understand why it was such a big deal--although this was contradictory, since she wanted to sit in the front just as much. 

Zote also said that the back was for “bugs who are most unworthy.” The Knight and Grimmchild didn’t care where they sat. Evidently, Zote and Bretta’s petty squabbling was ruffling Grimmchild’s feathers; the little creature had a nettled look on his face, and he whined and growled as the duo’s bickering carried on.

“You’re so infuriating--you know that?” Bretta snapped, antennas twitching in annoyance. Zote huffed and sharply turned his head away from the bug, making noises of disapproval as Bretta continued to come down on him like a ton of bricks. 

“First there was the incident back at that hive, you almost died, I.Had.To.Save.You,” she emphasized. “No wait! It was before then, when you decided to drag me down that hell well!” 

Zote pursed his lips and remained silent, absorbing all the information that was being presented to him. There were a few instances when he tried to interject, but the vexed Bretta didn’t let him.

“AND!” she sneered, “remember when they came to save our shells?” Bretta pointed to the Knight, who stood watching the affair silently. “You almost killed them, too! We all would’ve rotted away in honey, left to fossilize and taken to a queen bee’s lair to be hung up as trophies--” 

“That--that wouldn’t have happened!” Zote spluttered; his voice was laced with false conviction that couldn’t fool even a larvae. “I had the situation under con--”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Zote, or I swear on my 100 siblings, you will regret it,” Bretta said through clenched teeth. Zote narrowed his eyes and nodded reluctantly.

“And now that we’re in the clear, you want to argue about some stupid seating arrangement!”

“And you do too, hypocrite!” the Grey Prince accused.

“Do not!”

“So why do you care about  _ where I  _ want to sit?” he stressed, looking daggers at Bretta, who met Zote’s gaze in an offhand manner.

“I don’t,” she deadpanned.

“You do!”

The Old Stag tried  _ not _ to keep a beady eye on the feud in front of him, but he couldn’t resist. Once upon a time, he used to tune in on the zestful conversations of both common and rich bugs, who spoke about the solemn and silly matters of life. The stag had to admit, he kind of missed those days. Silent and empty stations were enough to make you feel lonely. He longed to carry cargo on his back, to tire his legs out from working dawn till dusk. There used to be a time when he ran into other stags in the stagways; the Old Stag would be delivering a shipment, and other stags were moving passengers--or maybe they just wanted to stretch their legs after a heavy day of hauling around guests and goods of all kinds. To feel young again--even for a minute--it is a blessing to be able to hark back to the past as one pleases. That’s what the Old Stag thought.

So when Zote and Bretta’s quarrel was finally over, the Old Stag felt happy, but there was some other sentiment present, too. He felt very touched, he was grateful that life as he used to know it decided to pay him a visit that day.  _ “During times like these, a blast from the past is all you need.” _

\----------

“So are we ready to go, Zote?” Bretta questioned impatiently. 

“Yeah yeah, just get on the stag,” he grumbled. 

Bretta got her way, and she climbed atop the Old Stag and sat in the front with the Knight and Grimmchild. The Knight let rainwater trickle down their mask, making no move to cover themselves as fresh water splashed without restraint. Bretta tried to shield herself with her arms, but stopped, knowing that the weather wouldn’t relent. 

“Hey, isn’t it so...wintry here?'' said Bretta, attempting to strike up a conversation with the Knight. When they didn’t so much as look at her, she didn’t try again.

A very displeased Zote hoisted himself up and into the backseat of the Old Stag, not caring about whether he got wet or stayed dry. Grimmchild was busy catching raindrops in his mouth, emitting murmurs of enjoyment whenever he succeeded.

“What is the destination?” the Old Stag asked with good grace, readying himself to take off for the trip. 

“We’re all going to Dirtmouth...right?” questioned Bretta, unsure if the Knight would be joining them; they didn’t show any signs of saying no, and Bretta confirmed the destination with the stag.

“Let’s be off then,” said the Old Stag. Wasting no time, he sprung into the dimly lit stagways; the rapid maneuver made the trio recoil in their seats, with Zote nearly flying off had he not held onto the arm of his chair at the last second. He sighed in relief, seeing that neither Bretta nor the Knight appeared to have noticed. Grimmchild squinted at the Grey Prince knowingly and shot him a snide look, mimicking Zote’s shocked face when he almost blew away; the child snickered and a shamefaced Zote hid himself in his cloak. 

The Stag built up speed and galloped further into the caverns, his shadow receding until it was no longer in sight. 

\----------

Luck is a few things--it can be the difference between seeing something favorable, or unfavorable. Grimm felt lucky today; not only did he run into the splendid little vessel, but he encountered a new face, too. Their spirit felt so formidable, it aroused his curiosity greatly. They weren’t like the vessel, they were just a regular bug, like many others. Though this may be the case, their essence was out of the ordinary; it was definitely of this world, but perhaps not of this time. 

Each kingdom the Grimm Troupe traveled to was different in character, in context, it was an absolutely thrilling thought. Would Grimm get lucky again, and chance on another interesting creature? 

_ “They will come soon.”  _

The weather was quite calm, but the sky wasn’t of the same opinion. Maybe it thought that the nice weather would distract the denizens of Dirtmouth from unearthing its potential secrets. The cloud cover was still as abundant as when Quirrel saw it not too long ago--but nobody seemed to notice; they were all too preoccupied with their own personal problems and difficulties. 

Grimm took it upon himself to wait for the Knight in Dirtmouth, near the metal bench that lies in wait for the next tired creature. The Troupe Master informed his comrade, Brumm, that he’d be absent for a short time, and then drifted out of the tent. The Grimmsteeds bowed their heads when they saw their master, and went back to resting when he was far enough away. 

_ “Oh, what have we here?”  _

Grimm hadn’t ever been inside Dirtmouth previously, but he thought it quaint and woeful; there was hardly any light, save for the street lamps and the random luma flies fluttering around the place. Bulbous houses were in every direction, and Grimm figured that they were practically unoccupied.

_ “What has desolated this little town so? Was it divinity?” _

\----------

Elderbug liked to greet travelers with some helpful, kind words, he really did. But the stranger approaching, they made him feel incredibly unnerved. The old bug wished that the little knight were here to make him feel more at ease, and to possibly get rid of what Elderbug could only describe as an anomalous individual. Were they connected to those outlandish tents that turned up a while back?

While Elderbug thought of the best way to shy away from having to speak to Grimm, the Troupe Master regarded the bug with a beguiling smile that made the elder’s stomach churn. 

_ “That one is scary--no--charming? Agh, why do my hunches fail me so!”  _

After what seemed like an eternity, Grimm closed in on Elderbug and said a simple hello. It seemed cordial enough, but the Troupe Master’s appearance in general still served to make the elder feel ill at ease. He cleared his throat and looked Grimm in the eyes with an unsteady gaze.

“Oh, hello there...what brings one such as yourself to this little town?”

“My, oh my, do you always treat travelers with such warm reception?” Grimm praised, looking as though to be filled with gratitude. Elderbug chuckled nervously, “Oh, yes, I always do my best to do it, without the thought for recompense.”

_ “He’s old, but gracious. I wonder if the little vessel spends much of their time with him?” _

Grimm went and sat on the bench next to Elderbug rather gracefully; it was almost a little too small for him, but he managed to fit.

“Tell me, elder, why is this town so empty, so grim?” he questioned ruefully, propping his head up with his hand. “Why has this kingdom fallen...why did my troupe assemble here?”

There was heavy silence for a few minutes. Grimm’s questions came without warning, and left Elderbug bereft of speech. They struck a chord within him, reminding him of the solitude he experienced for a very long time. It was a feeling he had grown used to, but no longer wished to endure, like a bittersweet memory. He always had to explain the state of the kingdom to travelers, so why was this any different? Perhaps he missed actual meaningful conversation--a conversation that was run-of-the-mill, but wasn’t small talk, either. He wanted to enjoy a conversation that didn’t involve spilling the empty narrative of a dying kingdom. 

But as long as he continued to live, and if he dared to call Hallownest his home, then Elderbug came to accept that this dilemma would be part of his truth. He saw no problem with it, not if bright faces like the little knight’s would be there to act as a beacon in his darkest times.

Right when Elderbug was about to verbalize his response, Sly came out of his shop, sparing the Troupe Master a clear and hard gaze that made him smirk. 

“Who are you?” Sly asked suspiciously. 


	9. Anemochory (And Now We’re Here)

Anemochory: the dispersal of plant seeds or spores by the wind.

A Merchant’s Dream 

_“The relationship between mother and child, wife and husband, brother and sister, friends--teacher and pupil--it is...just as meaningful._

_I remember basking in the_ m ineral-rich _hot springs with you all._

_You towered over me, the lot of you, but that never stopped me from whacking that oaf Oro in the head for being so difficult._

_Oh, and Mato, you were always so foolhardy. You couldn’t properly use that cyclone slash yet, but that never stopped you. What prompted you to finally listen to me was when you almost hit that young lady. You thought she was quite beautiful, too. I think you might have ruined your chances with her, that day._

_Sheo, I’m glad your passion was so intense--but maybe you could’ve taken it down a notch. You hardly rested. Rest is the most important facet in the art of mastering the nail. You didn’t believe me, but maybe it’s different now?_

_It used to be us four, training for hours on end, excited to rest and eat our supper because we were all very tired. I mean, I wasn’t tired from training, that no longer tires me. Dealing with you three, though? That was tiring, very tiring._

_Living the life of a merchant is so boring, sometimes. When will something interesting happen?_

_But there is an upside to being a merchant—it’s all the handsome geo I receive! That’s not so boring.”_

_\-----_

_Where are you? I can’t find you, my pupils. This little bug grows weary, and out of sorts._

_Oh hello, mail bug. What’s that? A letter for me? It’s from...the brothers! And they’re below here, in those old caverns? I’ll be there right away! I can’t believe it._

_Seeing orange...seeing, light._

_It’s so...bright._

_So...radiant._

_Will I see your skills, again?_

_Oro...Mato...Sheo…_

_Where’ve you gone?_

Cornifer and Iselda’s Adventure 

_“You’re going down, where?” Iselda questioned._

_“Into the caverns, to further explore Hallownest and chart its territory,” said Cornifer._

_“I don’t know, Corny…”_

_“You should come this time,” the bug suggested. Cornifer fastened his bag and surveyed his home to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything._

_“I’ll be okay up here, some soul is sure to need supplies,” Iselda told her husband, sounding jaded with the task ahead._

_Cornifer bid his wife goodbye and kissed her face, but just as he was about to leave, she grabbed his arm._

_“Wait,” she began. Cornifer wasn’t at all annoyed that he was being stopped, but he was curious._

_“What is it?”_

_“Before you go...let’s go and explore those cliffs, the ones to the west,” she said with a burgeoning excitement._

_After a moment’s reflection, Cornifer agreed and the couple did just that. They climbed rocky crags and scoped out the vastness of the Howling Cliffs. The place lived up to its name--blustery winds howled strangely, they penetrated your senses and left you feeling cold, too. Beyond the mountainous terrain was a wasteland whose range seemed never ending. Cornifer and Iselda sat on a cliff’s edge and exchanged sweet nothings to each other. They sprawled themselves out on the craggy earth and looked at the sky. It had nothing noteworthy; there were no clouds, or other anomalies. It may have been daytime, but it was still dark outside. That’s how Cornifer and Iselda had always known Hallownest. Neither of them spoke as they watched the sky, but both felt as if they could use a little something more--like dessert after dinner._

Allegory of Confessor Jiji

_In days far-off, Jiji’s masters commanded Jiji to create something that would aid her in her spiritual journey. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as Jiji understood its meaning and could turn back to it for guidance, or to assist another who sought out her services._

_For it to be a relic of some kind--Jiji thought that’d be most useful, but if someone else needed it for counsel, she would not be able to part with it. No necklaces, no stones, no trinkets--this was Jiji’s rule._

_Following the completion of this something that would aid her, Jiji would present it to the masters, who would deem it purposeful or not._

_\-----_

_Jiji was always a peculiar bug--she often told her late friends that she felt the push and pull of the universe high above, and that she dreamt of a pool of the blackest substance that took strange shapes._

_Who knows how much time had passed since then, but Jiji was now on her way to becoming a true confessor, with the guidance of her ancient masters._

_After much deliberation, Jiji created what would guide her, and hopefully others, too._

_She wrote it down--once on stone, and twice on paper-like material. More importantly, each word was forever engraved in her memory._

_“At night, I leave my regret_

_To be (hopefully) killed by perpetual darkness._

_Afterwards, the image of it ceases to leave my mind,_

_I rush out to search for them_

_But I only find myself facing a new wave of regret at having left my old one behind._

_I cannot find the place where I discarded my remorse,_

_I only see the stars above the clouds_

_And I realize_

_I was a fool for ever thinking there was no light in darkness.”_

A Beetle’s Romance 

_“I’m young, I’m beautiful. So, tell me world, where is my knight in shining armor?_

_They must be on their stag, waiting to sweep me off my feet._

_Love at first sight, it’s real, I swear it is. Me and my life’s companion will meet, and then we’ll dine, and sit on a giant leaf, under the stars. There won’t be any interruptions, it’ll be the perfect relationship. And if it’s not, I'll trek through the desert and voyage green moss forests, and I’ll circumnavigate every inch of this place, until I find them. Oh, life, don’t think me vain, I don’t want to be ignored again, I just want to be loved.”_

Zote and Fairy Tales 

_The Grey Prince’s birthplace was far from Hallownest. He was one of 50 siblings, who were all named with the letter ‘z,’ except for one. There was Zite, Zere, Zierre, Zophi, Zonia, the list went on. The eldest sibling was named Vin. Zote’s father and mother loved their first child dearly, but their capacity to love each child diminished as the number of children grew. Zote was child number 50, and as such, he was evidently loved the least. Zote’s mom wished she could be of a different species, so she wouldn’t have to bear the weight of so many children. On Zote’s 4th birthday, his mother gifted him a book of folk and fairy tales. Zote loved it very much; everyone’s lives were either perfect, or turned out for the better in every story. That’s how Zote wanted his life to be._

_Zote was very close to his brother Zierre, who was the 49th sibling. They developed a strong bond due to the fact that their mother and father acted colder towards them._

_One by one, all of the children started to leave the nest in order to forge their own paths. When Vin left, Zote’s mother and father were very distraught. However, they grew to feel less sad with the departure of each sibling._

_Zote and Zierre read the book of folk and fairy tales day and night, every week without fail. Zote was using the book like a guide to carve out the life he wanted to live. He’d be a generous bug, helping others along the way and spreading everlasting kindness. There was one hero in Zote’s favorite fairy tail named Basil. Basil had a list of 15 precepts that provided him with wisdom._

_There was a famous quote from Basil which read, “Nothing is written in the stars. Dream first of your victory, then seek it out.” Zote enjoyed this quote very much, and would read it aloud every night before bed._

_It was nearly Zote’s time to depart the nest, and his mother and father said they’d see him off the following morning. Zierre and Zote planned to leave together, in order to tackle the world as a dynamic duo._

_Zote was going to take his precious book with him, for he felt like Basil’s precepts would be useful in his journey. After reading precept number 5 in his book, Zote fell into a deep sleep._

_The following morning, Zote woke up alone. His mother and father were gone, and so was Zierre. What broke Zote’s heart the most was the fact that his book was nowhere to be found._

Reminiscence of the Troupe Leader 

_“The last kingdom the Grimm Troupe came to was devastated by a great fire. Supposedly, the bugs of that kingdom prayed to the higher beings over the course of a 24 hour period without pause; they prayed so that the flames which engulfed their homes, their livelihoods, and lives as they knew it would abate. They eventually did, but it was an entire month later. The kingdom was all but reduced to ash, and the surviving creatures wept and wept, wondering how life could be so unfair._

_Now that I think about it, it was a strange little kingdom. Everyone was dressed so gaudily; some wore makeup on their faces, and they also carried interesting weapons like staffs, shields, maces, and scythes. It reminded me of my troupe very much, I felt right at home._

_The being who summoned us was a jester; he was a bug of medium stature--he wore a flashy outfit complete with bells, and a star patterned design. As if that wasn’t showy enough, he also had a pair of transparent wings. The bug wielded a jewel encrusted scepter, which I assume was his means of defense._

_I invited this creature to take part in the ritual, and he happily agreed._

_One day, the jester told me that the bugs of the kingdom were visited by an unknown entity in a dream. The entity told the bugs to leave the fallen kingdom in search of a new one. Many did, but he decided to stay, though he didn’t tell me why._

_I think this bug took a liking to me, because even when he was off duty in completing the scarlet ritual, he came to visit me frequently. He would ask Brumm to summon me, but Brumm would often decline. I’d be sleeping, and the jingling of his bells approaching would wake me. He would come by to explain the history of his kingdom to me, and I listened intently every time. One of our more notable interactions was when the jester said they liked the color of my eyes._

_On his way to acquire one of the flames, tragedy struck, and this bug fell. I felt it._

_How and where he met his end, I’m still not sure, but the flame he was trying to obtain was at the peak of a mountain._

_Once the Grimmchild came back to me, I decided not to let the Grimmkin finish the ritual. I said we’d leave it for the next falling kingdom.”_

A Stag’s Salvation 

_Before the Infection took over Hallownest, the Old Stag used to serve his passengers and his kingdom very diligently. He was trained for a long time in order to assist the citizens of Hallownest, along with other stags. The Old Stag did his very best to be a great and useful stag--he believed there was no room for fault in his line of service._

_Unfortunately, the Old Stag had a bad accident one time, and his leg wound up severely injured. This accident happened while the Old Stag was working, and he felt great shame. Who would get the passengers to their destinations now? What would they think of a stag who couldn’t do his job correctly?_

_But then, the most amazing thing happened; passengers, old and young, rich and poor, small and large, they all came together in order to help the Old Stag. He was astonished, for he felt like he wasn’t worth the trouble. They proved him wrong, though._

_“Oh you gentle giant,” an old rich bug said, “please take care of yourself!”_

_“Thank you!”_

_“Have a great day, Mr. Stag!” cried the voice of a young larvae._

_The Old Stag couldn’t wait until his leg was healed, so he could continue serving his passengers with the utmost love. He was excited to get back and treat himself more gently, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♡♡♡


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimm is that guy ur grandparents would b v happy you brought home.

Sly _did_ notice the tents pop up seemingly out of nowhere, but it was mostly an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ situation. Grimm’s intrusion couldn’t really be ignored though--he was smack in the middle of Dirtmouth, talking to a defenseless elder who likely couldn’t outrun a snail. Sly was a tough bug, but he had a heart of gold, and felt bound to protect the weak and those in need. The little bug wasn’t one to make assumptions, but it was obvious that the stranger on the bench had much to do with the appearance of the circus in town. After all the turmoil and nonsense that Sly had experienced in his time as the Nailsage, he simply wanted peace--but if this outsider was going to wreak havoc on the few unsuspecting residents of Dirtmouth, then Sly couldn’t just stand back and watch. 

“Well?” Sly pressed, walking closer to Grimm with an undaunted mien. “What business do you have in this small town?” 

Grimm shrugged, “With all due respect, I was hoping we’d get to introduce ourselves before asking any questions.” 

“I asked you who you were, there was your chance for an introduction,” Sly challenged; the merchant’s sternness only made Grimm bubble with wonder--it wasn't often that he was tested by another, much less smaller individual.

Elderbug’s eyes ranged over Sly and Grimm, but he stood quiet, afraid to add fuel to what was perhaps an impending fire. At least he wasn’t alone with the gaudy stranger anymore. 

When Sly was upon Grimm, the Troupe Master stood up and bowed. The action threw Sly off--it wasn’t often that he witnessed someone bowing to him. The last time it happened was when he finished lessons with his pupils long ago. It was a sign of respect, but in this instance, what for? 

“Why do you bow, stranger?” Sly questioned, and Elderbug was just as curious. He was charmed by Grimm’s display of good manners as well. 

“Why wouldn’t I bow?” 

“You don’t know who I am.”

“I don’t have to,” Grimm said with simple directness. He turned to look at Elderbug and gave him an affectionate smile. “Right, elder?” 

The elder squirmed. “Um--” 

“You leave him out of this,” Sly interjected, “your...circus’ appearance hangs heavy on his heart as it is.”

“How are you so sure that circus is mine?” Grimm said artfully, sitting back down on the bench.

Sly glanced at the tents, then at Grimm, then again at the tents. How _couldn’t_ someone come to that conclusion. “You’re both unsightly.” 

The Troupe Master laughed, playfulness twinkling in his scarlet eyes. “Elder, am I an unsightly bug?” 

Elderbug didn’t think Grimm was. He thought him quite winsome, although Elderbug would never give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“Leave the elder out of this,” Sly said, this time more coolly.

“Actually--” Grimm proposed, rising from the bench to meet Sly’s unrelenting hard gaze. The merchant was only a fourth of Grimm’s size, but that didn’t intimidate him one bit. “I think the elder can speak for himself, wouldn’t you say?”

 _“Oh dear…”_ Elderbug thought worriedly. He hoped he didn’t somehow provoke the stranger by remaining withdrawn. 

Sly’s eyes trailed up the Troupe Master’s figure until they reached his face. Neither of the two creatures blinked as they stared each other down with a burning intensity. The tension was but an overlay--masking a strong interest in Sly on Grimm’s part--and the merchant’s faint urge to engage in combat with the Troupe Master. Sly knew better than to fight meaningless battles with foes who only sought to feed their curiosity, though. He was successful in stifling his compulsion, as the life of a Nailsage was what Sly decidedly resigned from long ago. If anyone wished to see him in that state, it’d have to be through the realm of his mind. Grimm too wondered if Sly hid a secret behind his steadfastness, and had to suppress the inclination to find out--it wasn’t what he came to Hallownest for.

Besides, why ruin a perfectly peaceful town, when everyone could enjoy themselves with what was soon to come? No squabbles, no battles, no ill will--simply a moment where you could transgress destiny to feel at one with the greater world around you. To view the universe through your own lenses, and not from the standpoint of the circumstances you were born into--Grimm would like that very much. 

“I grow tired, my friend, do you?” Grimm said, ushering Sly to the bench. “Why not take a moment’s rest?” 

Sly shook his head. “No, I think I’ll go back to my shop, but you should--”

“BEGONE, FOUL BEAST!” trumpeted a voice from inside the Stag Station; it was none other than Zote, who swaggered outside, shellwood blade raised and pointed at Grimm. “Leave this ugly town, or meet your doom!”

\----------

The scene in Dirtmouth didn’t look at all heroic; Zote’s cloak was tattered, and his blade had seen better days, too. Right behind the Grey Prince was a sleepy Bretta, an apathetic Knight, and a gamboling Grimmchild. They had finally arrived from their trip back at the Hive, which took longer than usual due to Zote insisting the Stag make pit stops so Zote could “try to find the gaudy one.” The Old Stag made a few, but Bretta angrily pulled Zote back to the beetle and told him to stop wasting their time. After that, Zote fell off the Old Stag as he was too busy looking behind them and not holding onto his seating.

The typically unfrequented Dirtmouth now had many guests all in one place. It was lively, and it hadn’t been so in a very long time. Something about the condition of the town made Elderbug feel emotional, but he wasn’t about to let these sentiments show in front of everyone.

“Scowling one, Bretta, and my precious vessel, you’ve arrived safely,” said Grimm contentedly. All the creatures present looked over at one another, unsure of what to say--they hadn’t really socialized with each all that much since arriving back at Dirtmouth. Being in close proximity with one another was most certainly a foreign experience.

Zote’s blade was still pointed at Grimm, though he lowered it when he saw Sly approaching him. The merchant studied the object, and everyone followed him. Zote felt mildly uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but also enjoyed the attention. 

“Young one--” said Sly.

“It’s Zote the Mighty, a knight of great renown."

“Not this again...” Bretta said in a hushed tone, facepalming. Grimm chuckled at her remark and she blushed. 

“Your blade is made of shellwood--it’s useless,” Sly said dryly, annoyed at being interrupted so rudely.

“I think you’re jealous, you squib merchant,” Zote proclaimed, earning a laugh from Grimm. “Yeah! And you should go back to whatever it is merchant’s do...lest I draw my blade, Life-Ender--” 

Just then, Sly swiftly pivoted behind Zote, jabbing him sharply with his arm; the Grey Prince shrieked and dropped his blade. Sly grabbed it’s hilt and deftly tripped Zote, who fell to the ground. When he turned to look at Sly, he was surprised to see his blade being pointed at him; everyone watched the scene in amazement. Grimmchild laughed coyly--it was clear that the little creature took pleasure in seeing Zote’s failings.

“You do not carry yourself well, nor cautiously--things that should be expected from a supposed ‘knight of great renown’,” Sly said matter-of-factly.

 _“Grey Prince, you only do it to yourself.”_ Bretta sighed before walking over to the bench, plopping down on it and looking up at the sky. _“Oh, the clouds…”_

Zote scrambled to his feet. “You-you caught me off--”

Sly dissolved into laughter, as did Grimmchild and Grimm. “Off what, off guard? I didn’t catch you off guard, you let yourself be caught off guard.” 

“Semantics!” Zote huffed.

“Absolutely not,” said Sly. 

“Give me Life-Ender, squib.”

“It’s Sly, and take it from me, if you dare.”

Zote wasn’t at all successful in his attempts to snatch Life-Ender from Sly. The bug’s light-footed leaps and dashes were too fast for Zote to handle. He tried to catch his blade a few more times, but Sly dodged and ducked, calling the chase “child’s play.”

The Knight dashed over to the bench, joining Bretta, who appeared to be dozing off. They also noticed the bizarre cloud cover in the sky, and they stayed looking at it for a while. Elderbug walked over to the Knight and greeted him happily. 

“Oh hello, I’m glad your back--its been a while since we’ve seen each other. Where did you go?” 

The Knight couldn’t answer his question, so they just looked at the elder, who continued talking. “That strange one appeared not too long ago, and I hoped that you might show up to try and get him out of here. He doesn’t seem dangerous, but he feels sinister,” said Elderbug.

“The little vessel and the elder,” sang an approaching Grimm. “I am so glad to have you back, you know?” 

Elderbug was slightly perplexed by Grimm’s statement--what did he mean by “little vessel?” Did they know each other? How?

\----------

Cornifer was awoken by the sounds of chatting and scuffling. Who was making such a ruckus? In Dirtmouth, no less? He just wanted some sleep before he headed back down to chart more territory.  
“Iselda?” Cornifer mumbled sleepily. 

“Yes, Corny, what is it?” 

“What’s going on outside?”

Iselda also noticed the noise coming from outdoors, though she hadn’t gone out to check what it was. She thought it’d stop eventually. 

“I don’t really know, I’ll go and see.”

“Okay,” said Cornifer, tucking himself back under the sheets, “report back to me.”

“Will do!”

When Iselda stepped outside, she was met by the local shopkeeper Sly, who was sprinting away from another short bug. She looked to the right and saw Elderbug, the little creature who shopped from her and Cornifer, and two other bugs. Grimm locked eyes with Iselda from a distance, having sensed her presence. She turned and went back into the house.

“It’s...it’s a party. Everyone’s just out there,” Iselda told her husband. 

Cornifer shot up from the bed. “I like parties.” 

“I don’t know, Corny. There’s a strange one outside.”

“Oh, that’s only a hunch. Let’s go say hello to everyone before they disappear. You know this town never gets activity other than the wind outside.”

“Alright, but stay close to me,” Iselda entreated, and Cornifer agreed. 

Before they exited the house, Iselda spoke to her husband. “And please, don’t go engaging with the strange one! You’ll know them when you see them.”

Cornifer and Iselda didn’t have to go and engage with the “strange one” though, because Grimm was waiting for them right near the entrance to their house. Iselda stopped in her tracks, and Cornifer looked over her shoulder, musing at the Troupe Master.  
“Can we help you with something?” asked Iselda. 

Grimm bowed, and Cornifer made a hushed noise of surprise. “Well met. You’re just in time for a spectacle, one that I’m sure you’ve never seen before, or may never see again.”

“What do you mean?” Cornifer chimed in.

“Just watch.” 

\----------

The clouds remained adamant in their desire to shield the sky from prying eyes. There were slight gaps in the overcast, but only the blued hued color of the atmosphere was visible. Nobody had paid mind to the sky above, as it was never a focal point of interest. Dirtmouth had been absent of activity and interest for years. It’s entry to King’s Pass had crumbled long ago, and the graveyard remained relatively quiet, save for the occasional visit from Elderbug to his dear friend. Travelers always left soon after arriving, in order to seek out wealth, power, or purpose in the caverns below. Dirtmouth was a town most glossed over--it was forgotten about, and barely given a second thought. Ever since Hallownest fell, this had been the case, and would continue to be so. For a split second, out of the indefinite span of time, this would not be true though. The ruins below had their marvels, but Dirtmouth had one, too.

The Troupe Master’s eyes shone with a distinctive scarlet light, as did the rest of his body. It was almost blinding, and alerted everyone around him. A loud, popping sound from the Troupe Master’s summoning of flames awoke Bretta. The Troupe Master fanned out his arms on either side of him; his claws grew longer and suddenly, his cloak did too. 

The Knight watched the scene intently, as did Grimmchild. Aside from Grimm, no one knew more about what was about to happen than the child himself; it was what he had been waiting for. A child’s curiosity and wonder just couldn’t be helped. He had to have his way, and he was going to in just a few moments. 

Two enormous columns of scarlet flame shot up into the sky, and enveloped the Troupe Master. It was like the addition of Grimm augmented the flames, and they became uncontrollable for a second before calming down. It was quiet, but then, hundreds if not thousands of projectiles shot into the sky; one by one, they dispersed or were absorbed into the cloud cover. The way the flames emitted light when they fulminated was reminiscent of fireworks.

Everyone was quiet, but what could they say? Words weren’t enough to describe what was happening. 

Immediately after the last of the projectiles were launched into the sky, rain sheeted down, but nobody ran for cover. They wanted to see what happened next. 

The rain fell for almost three minutes straight. Drizzle gave way to sprinkling, which cleared up, leaving the ground below wet and puddled.

The Troupe Master no longer scintillated with a scarlet light, and his claws and cloak returned to their former state. He took a deep breath before gesturing towards the sky.

“Darkness, which gives way to light. No clouds in the sky means a star to behold with one’s eyes,” he breathed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending scene of this chapter came out exactly as I envisioned it would. Thank you all for all the kudos and hits so far!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact this was actually supposed to be like a two chaptered fic when I first thought of the idea. I'm happy I took this route, though.

When Quirrel emerged from King’s Pass, he planned to go back underground, but couldn’t. It’s not that he couldn’t—he didn’t want to. 

Instead of seeing the cloudy sky, Quirrel saw the spectacle of a lifetime—the climax of a performance that was by no means over. He didn’t say or think anything—he only felt the stream of emotions which was coordinated to happen by whoever directed the show. 

It didn’t quite matter what seeing stars did to a bug—only that those feelings, memories, and thoughts percolated; they connected together as a river of the innermost self. A shared experience is a personal one, while many personal experiences are valued because they are shared. 

Quirrel thought he’d take time to gather his thoughts peacefully, but there he was, fascinated by Hallownest yet again. 

\----------

Some in Dirtmouth were sitting, some were standing; there was Zote, who didn’t want to see the appeal, and Iselda, who was filled with amazement. Elderbug looked just a bit older under the starlight, while the darkness under the Knight’s white shell was magnified. 

Whether you were a Nailsage turned merchant, or an illusion of reality; a hopeless romantic who needed a bit more sense, or a cursed child with a doomed purpose—no entity, being, or bug felt left behind in the transportation to another world.

The saddest thing about Hallownest is how everyone’s story will eventually come to an end. Many already met theirs at the hands of the Infection, but a fortunate few survived. Not all survived though—some were saved to begin with, because they were lucky enough to be born elsewhere. They wondered if the stars extended back home, and they didn’t—but the sky did.

And then there was the Knight, who came from void and ignobility. They saved the living and the dead, and have a greater purpose yet to be achieved. You couldn’t read their mind if you tried—at the very least, you could speculate. Were they enjoying their time, under the mindful watch of the celestial objects above? The Knight was staring at the sky, just like everyone else was. In the long run, what the Knight thought of the stars didn’t matter—what mattered was that they saw them.

It was hard to believe that heavy, grey clouds enshrouded Dirtmouth’s sky not too long ago. Now, there wasn’t a single one in sight; everything went according to Grimm’s plan.

_“The stars are gifts from the universe, but you cannot give a bug a star—you can only show them.”_

Some parts of the sky were darker than others; they looked like blotches of black paint on a blue canvas. The center gleamed with an azure hue that stood out like a blemish—it was Cornifer’s favorite part. The cartographer poked his wife and made sure she noticed it. The stars dotted the sky asymmetrically, and some shone brighter than others. Sly wondered if those were closer than the ones which radiated softly. When the merchant wasn’t looking, Zote grabbed his shellwood blade from him and hid behind Bretta’s house; stars reminded him a little too much of Basil.

But Zote wasn’t the only one whose memories were evoked; Grimm thought of the land he visited previously—where the ritual was unsuccessful—where he met the flashy jester. The flashy jester, with the star patterned design, and the eccentric personality. The jester told Grimm he liked his eyes, because they were a window to his soul; he wanted to see through Grimm’s projection, but what was he hoping to achieve?

Elderbug felt triumphant; the elder felt triumphant because he didn’t need to descend into the ruins to see anything—why descend when you could see a perfectly splendid phenomena in the comfort of your own home? Elderbug was still very wary of Grimm, but knew that this experience was only possible because of him.

_“Who even is this stranger? Maybe he’s not so bad.”_

Sly couldn’t complain about his peaceful little life as a merchant. There was geo—lots and lots of geo. Being a Nailsage had its perks, bringing along with it many epic battles and experiences. Metamorphosis is part of life though—and becoming a merchant was Sly’s.

He looked over to Grimm, who seemed to be deep in thought. Sly didn’t know Grimm’s name, or his origins, but he thought it was probably for the best; he knew Grimm would disappear as quickly as he came.

Conversely, Bretta wanted to know more about Grimm. When they introduced themselves back at The Hive, Grimm told Bretta his name, but she couldn’t remember it. She was too shy to ask him, so she settled on doing it later, when she mustered up enough courage.

Grimm was charming, strong, dashing—everything Bretta ever wanted. Where did he come from? Bretta desperately wanted to know. What’s more—she didn’t mind if he overstayed his welcome. The lass looked around for Zote. She felt quite bad for snapping at him earlier, and wanted to see if he was okay. 

But the Grey Prince was nowhere to be found. Zote was still there, behind Bretta’s lodging—he wept silently, and didn’t want to be seen.

Following his contemplative silence, Grimm approached the Knight and spoke with them rather earnestly.

“You know what I think, little vessel?” 

The Knight looked at the Troupe Master with pensiveness.

“These stars...the universe speaks to you. You do not express anything outwardly, but nothing is hidden from the prying eyes of the cosmos. You’ve had the opportunity of sharing experiences with many in Hallownest, haven’t you?”

Grimm sat down on the bench next to the Knight. It was a snug fit, but neither creature minded.

“What I mean is—think of these stars as a sign, a symbol if you will, of your connections, your associations...your bonds.”

\---------- 

The magic hadn’t died down yet, and wouldn’t until the stars disappeared; everyone in Dirtmouth had mixed feelings about these cosmic objects, relative to how they saw them in their own narratives.

_“Hopeful”_

_“Enigmatic?”_

_“Lovely”_

_“Godlike”_

_“White”_

_“Distant”_

_“Tiny.”_

_“Bright”_

_“...Wondrous.”_

It was strange to see everyone together in an unprecedented event; Dirtmouth hadn’t felt like an actual town in forever, until then. 

As they gazed at the heavens above, they didn’t forget to acknowledge each other. Iselda smiled at Elderbug; Sly nodded to Cornifer, and made a joke about how their competition still wasn’t over. Elderbug asked Sly why he was so short, and Sly countered by asking him why he was so old. Bretta asked Elderbug what he thought of the day’s event, and he asked how she felt about it herself. They didn’t need to pretend anymore—they could admit that they all cherished the small community that came to be over time, even if only a little.

Unbeknownst to the Knight, Grimmchild had wandered off; for a creature that was so hell-bent on seeing stars earlier, he seemed awfully self-possessed. But the child was appeased—he had no reason to cry and shriek anymore.

Sometimes, living things unconsciously seek out company; even in solitude, they like to know that they’re not ever truly alone.

Jiji was comfortable in her chamber; she watched the stars, and thought of her masters. The sinister presence was closer than ever, and she figured that they were responsible for the sky clearing. The massiveness of the universe never ceased to amaze her—the good thing was that it would be there to greet her if she slept again.

Grimmchild didn’t forget what Jiji had done for them. He surprised the confessor with his appearance, and insisted on laying on her head. Jiji wasn’t opposed to this, but thought it funny how even a creature like Grimmchild could be so tender. At the end of the day, they really still were a child.

The Knight never stayed in one place, and left Dirtmouth after sometime. They headed towards the Howling Cliffs, and Grimmchild came into view with a shadowy emergence.

Grimm’s eyes were on the Knight as they dashed past the Grimm Troupe’s tents, and receded from his view.

The Troupe Master scanned the starry sky and leaned back into the bench, admiring it further.

_“Born from higher power,_

_They appear where there’s an absence of light,_

_In a place_ — _dark, scary, and misunderstood._

_Stars are pale, bright, and significant,_

_There’s a lot of them...”_


	12. Chapter 12

As the Knight advanced towards the Howling Cliffs, they found Quirrel. The pillbug was sitting on the stretch of land where the bridge to King’s Pass used to be. It seemed that no matter where the Knight went, they ran into Quirrel, who never missed the chance to say hello to them. 

“Oh—hello again!” said Quirrel. He sat cross-legged and was polishing his long nail, but he looked up when the Knight approached them. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here...did you see the sky by any chance? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

The Knight sat next to Quirrel, but a bit closer to the edge; their short and stubby legs barely dangled off the overhang.

“I wonder how much longer they’ll be here?”

Quirrel stopped attending to his nail and scoped the twinkling sky, looking at nothing in particular. The stars plastered the sky in such a way that they resembled a lengthy bridge—one that lay inverted against the heavens.

“This may be my first time seeing these objects, but I know about them. They’re stars, and they’re luminous bodies of great mass,” Quirrel explained. “Ha, but you know, us bugs must look like tiny specks next to them—I mean, imagine yourself next to a star?”

The Knight simply gazed at Quirrel.

“I don’t mean offense!” the bug clarified. “You’re a short one, so just think about it.”

And the Knight did think about it, but Quirrel couldn’t tell—he just assumed.

“I’m not sure how I know about these celestial bodies, but I do,” Quirrel admitted. “Perhaps it’s the same reason why I know about so many other things here in Hallownest.”

Grimmchild had been noiseless since he saw Jiji, but he flew over to Quirrel, who stared at him with interest. The pill bug didn’t miss the skittish glitter in his eyes. 

“That’s an interesting companion you have there,” he said.

The Knight looked at the child, who nodded and wagged their tail.

“I’d ask how you two met, but I think my question might be met with the usual silent stoicism.”

Quirrel wasn’t wrong about that.

The pill bug resumed looking at the stars, and he glanced at the Knight out of the corner of his eye. They caught Quirrel staring and he laughed sheepishly. 

“Sorry my friend, but I couldn’t help but notice the uncanny resemblance between you and these stars. Just look.”

He pointed towards the sky, and Grimmchild and the Knight traced his movements.

“They’re pale, small, and bright. They’re interesting like you are, though I haven’t heard you say a word since we first met, but still. Hmm, what else...oh and—”

Quirrel continued to ramble about the similarities he found, but the Knight made no moves to leave him; they sat there until Quirrel finished listing out all the resemblances. 

\----------

_ “Born from higher power, _

_ They appear where there’s an absence of light _

_ In a place—dark, scary, and misunderstood.  _

_ Stars are pale, bright, and significant.  _

_ There’s a lot of them, and they all look similar...they bear the same composition. _

_ From what I know, all stars collapse, eventually.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all everyone, thank you for reading.  
> I thoroughly enjoyed this story and I hope you did too.  
> It was short and simple, but I loved it regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> Grimmchild got the whole squad laughing.  
> ——————  
> More characters (the ones listed in the tags) will appear as the story goes on.


End file.
